“And I’m Arlene Finocchia. Sorry to be so panicky, but the carpet in my unit is new, and I don’t want to lose the security deposit if it gets ruined. What’s your little girl’s name?”

“Maya.”

“Such a sweet face,” Arlene said. “This is me. Unit thirteen.”

She was pointing to a mint-green concrete-block unit with a deep blue front door. A thin stream of water trickled out onto the concrete doorstep.

“Oh shit,” Arlene said. “Sorry,” she said, glancing down at Maya. “Excuse my potty mouth.”

“Unfortunately, she’s heard it before,” Letty said. Arlene opened the door and they followed the water into the bathroom, which had a powder-blue ceramic tile floor and matching powder-blue fixtures.

“Stupid me. I left the water running while I ran to the laundry room to switch out the machines … and when I got back, I saw this mess.”

Damp towels were piled up on the floor, which held more than an inch of water.

“Uh-oh,” Maya said, pointing to water splashing over the top of the tub.

Letty sat down on the edge of the tub, ignoring the resulting gusher.

“I’ll just take Maya into the other room while you work,” Arlene said, holding out her hand to the little girl. “Okay if I give her a snack? I’ve got some tangerines from the produce stand.”

“She’d love a tangerine,” Letty said.

Ten minutes later, Letty emerged from the bathroom with a triumphant smile. She was soaked from the knees down and held out a paper cup with what she estimated was a good four-inch-thick blob of matted jet-black hair caked with what looked like cream rinse.

“All done,” she said, holding out the paper cup for inspection. “Here’s the culprit.”

Arlene Finocchia’s face turned pink with embarrassment. “Oh my God.” She clutched her head. “I knew my hair was thinning out, but not that much. That’s disgusting.”

“These old pipes are probably kind of corroded inside,” Letty said. “I used to live in a building where this happened all the time. You ought to buy a gallon of white vinegar and pour some down the drain every day or so to clear out the gunk.”

“I will,” Arlene said.

“Have you got a mop and bucket handy?” Letty asked. “We should get that water up before it has a chance to sit.”

“You’re amazing,” Arlene said, as Letty prepared to leave. “An honest-to-God lifesaver. Wait, I have something for you.” She disappeared for a moment, and when she came back, she pressed some bills into Letty’s hand.

It was two ten-dollar bills. “Oh no,” Letty said. It was her turn to be embarrassed. “That’s not necessary, not at all.”

“Sure it is,” Arlene said, waving away Letty’s objections. “My security deposit is five hundred bucks. And I’m pretty sure Ava didn’t hire you to do plumbing work.”